Up until this point, I have managed to sound like a fairly normal mom and housewife. I have let slip my passion for Oreo’s and all things chocolate. I have shared my tendency to hide said chocolate from my children (they don’t need the sugar high, believe me!). My “What I’m Up To” page boasts my love for Nora Roberts (cause she doesn’t write sex books with a little other stuff tossed in, she writes life stories with a little sex tossed in). We haven’t covered favorite shows, movies and music yet, but we will. Today, however, I leave my seemingly normal self behind and expose my dirtiest little secret. I have hinted at this previously, even warned. But now it will be fully exposed.

When I was nine, some twenty years ago (good God I’m honestly saying twenty years…) my mother gave me a cassette for Easter. (Repeat above, insert cassette.) On the cover was a blurry black and white of five young men. (Yes, this *is* where this post is going, read on at your own caution.) I had seen the video on MTV of these guys, and I admit (to my later shame and horror) that I was unimpressed. I had Kirk Cameron telling me to Just Say No at the time, and I was cool with that. The photo my mom took of me holding the tape showed me looking relatively bored, in my pink nightie. Needless to say, this photo became the first picture in a later scrapbook with the caption “The Beginning!!” in large, tweeny scrawl across the page. **sigh**

To go into complete detail, I’d have to give you a total breakdown of my childhood, and that’s something I’ve done and would rather not do again at this time. I’ll just say something clicked and I decided fairly quickly that Kirk could tell someone else what to say. 🙂 And then I went crazy, along with eighteen bazillion other girls.

When I say “crazy”, this is not a lighthearted term. The three large totes and one NKOTB trunk in storage speaks for itself. If it had the logo, or their faces, I had to have it. Being an only child and sheltered (suffocated) by my mother, I was… over indulged, shall we say. T-shirts, nightgowns, dolls… it was a never ending stream of these cuties. My room looked like the merchandising people came in and threw every single thing they made all over the place. I didn’t know what color my walls were for who knows how many years. And honestly, like a lot of other people say about things, these guys got me through. To this day, I can de-stress immediately by listening to their voices. It was a haven and escape having them to grow up with, and for that reason alone, my loyalty can remain. (We don’t need to talk about the fact that when I was ten, I planned my wedding to Joe- that’s just unnecessary. LOL) My friends still mention them, my husband still teases me. And I still smile like a kid in a candy store.

I was an oddball, and never quite fit. I had few friends, and wasn’t allowed to do a lot. So my fixation was something psychological, I’m sure. whatever it was, I loved them. Fiercely. I took a lot of shit about it, but I never wavered. And, to their credit, they were huge. They were compared to The Beatles, The Jackson Five. And rightly so. They had fans worldwide, and still do. They were a part of millions of girls lives growing up, and some grew out, some stuck right with them for the entire ride. And then they disappeared, walked away from it, and for me, the world was a little darker for awhile.

Fast forward fourteen years or so, to an adult woman with a husband, house and kids. I still listen to Joe’s music and have connected with other women who grew up listening and still do. I have watched these guys I grew up with in movies, on Broadway, and marveled at how they haven’t changed a bit, to me. They are old familiar friends. They are a hell of a lot of what is warm and safe and fun from a lot of my younger years. Now, recently the rumors started about a reunion, a comeback… I’m not quite sure what the actual deal is, if any. I was nonchalant, but curious. Wow that would be neat, was my main thought.

I’ve never been one of the fans who wanted a reunion, really. They are adults, with their own lives and families, much like all us crazy gals now are. I never understood the crazed way people still got over old groups reuniting, doing shows, etc. Yesterday, I stumbled upon their official website however, and there is a teaser of a new song. Again, “well, that’s neat, let’s check it out.” I popped on my headphones, since Jim was sleeping (along with his writing, he works a 40 hour 3rd shift job, so I can stay home with my babies) and decided to listen. And I went crazy. Again.

I lost all adult reasoning as I attempted to freak out silently. I cried a little. LOL Memories ran through my head like crazy and it was the strangest thing, hearing them now. My children wandered in and stood watching me for who knows how long, waving my arms in excitement and mouthing “ohmygodomygod”. They sound the same, almost. But they still mesh. And it still clicks. And a twelve year old girl came alive in a 29 year old body and felt that freedom again.

I, of course, showed it to the kids. Miss Lyss was excited. “I am so happy for you,” she said seriously. “But, aren’t they old??” **sigh** Jake was a little puzzled. “Is that Dad?” **snickers** No, my dear, but my taste has always leaned to the blue eyed ones…. and let’s not ask Dad if that’s him, mmmkay???

So, there it is, my dirty little secret. I was a Blockhead. Guess “am” would be a better term. If that makes me a weirdo, geek, dork, what have you, so be it. I’m not alone, believe me! LOL I like to think it gives me some quirkiness, and makes me fun. Or strange, take your pick. 😉 But to have that huge chunk of my life revisited is something I look forward to…. and I promise, honey, I won’t put their posters on the bedroom walls!

So we’ve been watching American Idol. **sigh** I can’t seem to get away from it, and I’m not really sure what prompts me, or Jim (handsomely bearded husband) to plop down four hours of our week to see some good, more mediocre, very few super talented, and hundreds upon hundreds of train wrecks. But, we do it. And we are not alone.

But, I digress (as usual). Tuesday we were watching, and a woman named Beth popped in and sang some Sinatra. Beth is 28 ( I think??) and there was just something, something besides her age and that particular song that opened my mouth. (Beth is going to Hollywood, by the way. Yay Beth!)
I wandered back into the room and leaned against the couch for a second. “Wonder if she’s one of us?” I said more to myself than to Jim. “Us” meaning the women of my age group that not only grew up on a little group called New Kids on the Block (cue memories of screaming tweenys and flying panties), but still purchase solo albums from any of the ex members with their own thing going on.

The reason I asked this was because of “Talk To Me”, the latest solo from Joe McIntyre, the baby blued cutie that made me (and eight hundred thousand other girls) shriek at levels only small children and animals can hear. TTM is a tribute to Mr. McIntyre’s own all time fave, Old Blue Eyes himself Frank Sinatra. And “Bewitched” is on that album. So it seemed reasonable to wonder if that was where Beth’s song came from. Not that I’ll ever know, but it was interesting. (To me.)

The boy band rage has slowly been coming alive in our house these days, anyway. My 7 year old is slowly sinking into the craze with the Jonas Brothers. I recognize the glazed look she gets in her eyes. I recognize it and pray that there is no merchandising for these Brothers- my parents probably spent a small fortune on all of the NKOTB paraphernalia I had to acquire (or DIE! just DIE!! without it!!) and could probably very well have retired to Aruba or something, had I not needed that last hot pink slap bracelet. But I did need it, dammit, just as I’m certain Miss Lyss will need whatever version of little girl eye candy comes from this. And who am I to begrudge her? I still have everything New Kids packed away, and I still smile a little when Radio Disney plays The Right Stuff. I will embrace my daughter’s boy band love and have my own walk down memory lane as I do it. Too bad none of ’em have those pretty blue eyes, though….